


softball.

by deltachye



Category: Dangerous Fellows (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, One Shot, Other, Reader-Insert, really? no dfels fics????, you guys are in a crisis. i'm on my way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltachye/pseuds/deltachye
Summary: [reader x ethan]you don’t say goodbye.[DW19]





	softball.

**Author's Note:**

> y'all starved me from ethan content so i made my damn own... smdh.

“You’re actually not that shy, are you?”

Ethan’s eyebrows arch somewhat as you say it, careful to be quiet. You like evening patrols the least, for obvious reasons. But because nobody else wants to do them, so Ethan, dependable, takes the brunt—and, you, knowing this, follow suit. It’s not safe. Anybody can tell you that and, with the distant zombies that are easily seen roaming on the grounds through the school’s windows, you don’t need anybody to tell you. It’d be better for you if you stayed in your room. But with Ethan by your side, you don’t feel that worried. He almost makes you feel invincible in this time of desperation.

“What do you mean?” he asks when you don’t continue, prompting.

“You’re quiet, but you’re thoughtful. And you don’t really get nervous about anything.”

His steps falter noticeably but he shakes his head, catching up in a few strides. His shadow moves seamlessly against the wall with yours.

“I do get nervous about some things. Sometimes.”

“I mean, it’d be weird if you didn’t get a little freaked out, considering the… _situation_ we’re in. But otherwise you always keep your cool. Remember when we first met?”

He nods. It seems like so long ago and the smile tugs at your heart when it pulls at your lips, like little marionette strings.

“Sorry. I’m not sure why I brought all this up… I guess I’m just trying to say—” You inhale deeply to steady your nerve. If you can face zombie hoards, you can say this much, right?

“—that I appreciate you. A lot. Thanks, Ethan.”

This time, he stops completely. The two of you were going back down the steps to your floor, having confirmed that there was nothing unusual in the upper hall. When you look up at him, the moon and starlight from the stairway window shines particularly well on his face. The surprise is etched in dark, fine lines.

“Ethan?” you ask, a bit apprehensive. Had he taken that hard? Were you too weirdly forthcoming? You’d meant it to be uplifting in these trying times, but maybe you’d just made things awkward. Your gut roils at the thought of losing one of the fragile friendships you’d managed to form since finding others.

“Sorry.” Again he shakes himself out of it, physically whipping his head from side to side. It makes his hair, jet black and nearly invisible in the dark, flap like a raven’s wing. The idiosyncrasy is kind of cute. He must’ve done it a lot during his sports career. He closes the gap between the two of you, shoes heavy in the reverberating stairway. When he stops on yours he glances down at you, so much taller.

“I appreciate you too, I guess.”

His tone is a bit strained. You figure he’s not used to saying mushy garbage like that and you’ve put him on the spot. But he said it anyways, and with the slight echo you feel like it bounces in your empty skull. _I appreciate you too. I appreciate you too._

The room is cold when you get back to go to bed, even with Judy sharing warmth. But the smile beams hotly on your cheeks.

\---

The knock on your door is startling. Judy isn’t here, having gone up to the library—the door now jimmied free, thanks to Ethan—so it’s only you in the bedding. Though it could be any one of the guys looking for company. The days, stretched thin without hope, got long.

To your shock it’s just who you were thinking about. Ethan stands in the doorway, facial expression a bit brighter than usual. It’s odd, seeing his countenance light right than heavy. You try to pull yourself together and act like you aren’t staring.

“What’s up?”

“I found this kicked under one of the lockers.”

You look at his hand and find it’s a softball. It’s a horrifying shade of puke green with faded red stitching. Not only is it sunburnt, it’s dusty and has what looks like hair all over it. Despite its gross appearance, Ethan bounces it comfortably in his hand.

“I played baseball, not softball. But it’ll do for catch since it’s bigger than a baseball.”

“Catch?” you repeat dubiously. Going outside in the yard was a risk each time instead of a simple luxury to do when bored. Ethan catches on to your thoughts without you saying anything more and shrugs to the more open space of your classroom.

“As long as you don’t aim for a window, we’ll be fine inside.”

“We could make up a game with all the others!” you suggest, excited once you’ve accepted that touching the nasty ass ball might be a good idea after all. Things have been tense as of late, and you already know Scarlett will bitch about you secretly wanting to nail her in the nose with a ball. Even if you’d like to do just that, playing a game of sorts instead of just sitting around a map and discussing plans might be a good change of pace. Ethan catches the ball and grips it tightly enough for the tendons in his knuckles to jump.

“Later,” he says succinctly, surprising you. Ethan isn’t like Eugene, eager to throw a middle finger up to the team whenever possible. He closes the door behind him and walks to the far end of the room, sitting so his back slumps against the wall. He gestures to the pile of chairs you and Judy have pushed aside to make room. Cautiously, you go and sit across from him, a couple metres away. He throws the ball all of the sudden and it’s only thanks to your honed reflexes from your constant terror that you catch it.

“I think I just want to chill out for a bit. Here. If that’s okay.”

“Yeah,” you agree, tone softening. You think you get where he’s coming from. Now that he’s sitting there, his face looks sad. It’s a different thing to want to be alone, and then to be lonely. When you first got here, all you could think about was your broken promise with your mother. If she was okay. If she knew you loved her. Ethan hadn’t said a word about his parents, but he’s human, too.

You throw the ball back. It’s with a lot less skill, but he catches it without even looking. When he looks at you to see if you’re paying attention to catch, you flash him a quick smile.

“It’s okay.”

You remember what he said about being a pitcher. His throws are easy and arc well, making them soft to catch. They’re always within reach, whereas yours spin off wide or narrow unpredictably.

“You’re not trying to strike me out?” you tease, actually enjoying the therapeutically mindless act of chucking a ball back and forth. The ball slaps softly against his palms. He turns it in his long fingers thoughtfully.

“No,” he replies, with such honesty it takes you off guard. “Usually I’m happy when I throw hard pitches, but it makes me feel better when you catch them. You looked surprised every time.”

“I-I do?” you stammer out immediately, embarrassed by such a comment. Defensively, to protect the shred of dignity you nurture, you ramble. “Well, it’s just that I’m not that athletic, and my hand-eye coordination isn’t all that great. So, yeah, not dropping it yet is pretty impressive for me, okay?”

“Okay,” he says, the gentle word ridden on a laugh. You don’t think you’ve heard Ethan laugh. He’s spoken a lot more to you now than he did before, but he’s still never actually laughed. The thought of that is funny, but in a sad way.

“Whatever. I’m going to drop it now. Your throw will be super shitty and I’ll drop it and it’ll all be your fault.”

“Will it?” he replied, reflecting the sly energy. It’s becoming of him. Brings him alive.

“And I’ll strike you out. Wait… do you actually bat?”

The back and forth continues. You wish it’d never end.

\---

When it bites you it almost feels like it didn’t happen. You thought it’d be a hot pain, but it’s cold. It freezes as if you can feel each tooth carved from stone.

“No!” somebody screams. Maybe it’s you. Your knees give at the same time somebody pulls, yanking so hard it almost tears your arm out of your socket. The force frees you from the zombie and suddenly you’re being dragged along, even with one dysfunctional leg.

“Stop!” you shriek. You know you’ve been bitten. You don’t have to look to know why your ankle sends sharp arcs of pain up your leg. You don’t have to look to know there’s a crescent moon carved out of you. It’s dark, but you can tell it’s Ethan by the way he holds you.

“No, I won’t—”

“You have to leave me,” you beg. The tears choke your voice by closing your throat, but it’s for the greater good. You fling him off of you even though he’s so much stronger than you and finally collapse to the floor. The linoleum is so cold—or maybe, it’s just your blood going hot with the virus.

“I won’t fucking leave you,” he spits haggardly, about to pick you up again. You’re too weak to fight him off. You feel like a helpless heap, unable to do anything but sob. Ethan’s seen you cry so many times. You wish he didn’t have to see you like this as the last memory. Anything but this.

“You have to kill me,” you pant. You grab the bat that he keeps strapped to his back, the one that’s with him at all times. Clawing at it, you slip it out of its loose holster and hold the end to your forehead. It’s slippery with your blood and sweat and tears. Ethan stares down at you, horrified. The expression seems that much starker when your feel your vision is going, lost in a muddle of blurs.

“I won’t,” he gasps, taking the end of the bat and jerking it away from you. It doesn’t take much force to slip it out of your grip. It clatters to the ground by your side. You collapse to the floor again, wheezing for air. Did the symptoms really set in this fast? Then, it would only be a matter of time before you lost yourself to the virus completely and attacked him. You’d end up killing him and the others. Who knows who else?

“Ethan, _please_ …”

“I am _not_ leaving you.”

His voice is strained with the emotions he struggles to convey through words. He hasn’t managed to say anything else to you, his brain locked in panic. Denial is the first stage of grief. It’d be endearing if this weren’t the situation.

But it is.

You can’t beat yourself to death no matter your resolve. He wouldn’t let you and you’re too weak. Also, your blood might splatter, and that would be too dangerous. You glance up to the moonlight and see the stars. Without city light pollution anymore, you can see the Milky Way every night now. There are so many stars, so many individual points of life… you and Ethan had sat outside under that sky, once, talking about the future.

It felt so real back then.

You take the bat. Ethan realizes that you’re moving and reaches, but you swing it hard and fast against the wall. The tip plunges through the glass window, shattering it. If there are any zombies nearby, they’d be coming soon. Because the monsters had barricaded the stairs leading down, everybody had been trapped on the uppermost levels.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe as you haul yourself to your feet. You smile, teeth ground with pain. Wasn’t he supposed to take you to your first baseball game? Well, too late for that. You could only hope he’d live to see the next day.

“Wait, no. Please, _please_ , there’s another way…”

It’s ‘please’ now, not ‘don’t’. He knows you’ll do it. His voice is so low, so raw. The tears run freely down his face now and you wish sorely you could mop them up and wait patiently like he has for you so many times before. You don’t say goodbye. It’d hurt too much.

You fall backwards so you see him last before you close your eyes. The stars spin in your eyes. They burn so brightly in teardrops, round like softballs that won’t be caught. You wish you were dead before you hear him scream your name in anguish.

**Author's Note:**

> support my writing through ko-fi?: https://ko-fi.com/deltachye  
> tumblr: https://deltachye.tumblr.com/tagged/chye%27s-fics


End file.
